Perhaps you have been hearing at your local seafood counter that the Copper River red salmon are in.  According to Alaska Department of Fish and Game, the Copper River commercial fishery peaked around June 4 with 26,200 fish passing through the sonar site daily. To date this season, more than 417,000 have entered the Copper River system en route to spawning grounds, with more still on their way.  In mid-May, the fist Copper River sockeye salmon (“red” is a term used to describe sockeye salmon) arrived in Seattle and the 46-pound fish received the red carpet treatment as it disembarked the Alaska Airlines plane on it’s way to the kitchen of a top local chef.  Growing up in Seattle, this was always an exciting and much anticipated time of year.  We often featured this prized fish at neighborhood BBQs, park potlucks and boating excursions.  In the Puget Sound area, we were won over by the flavor and the successful marketing campaign of the Copper River fishery.

Since being transplanted to Alaska, I have happily been able to routinely incorporate salmon into my diet through a variety of means: smoked salmon snacks in winter, fresh grilled salmon dinners by summer and a stack of fresh caught frozen fillets that line my freezer waiting to hit the table mid winter.  Like so many of those in the state now, as many generations have done before, I may travel some distance when the fish are running to secure salmon for the winter.  I’ve now finally seen the infamous Copper River and participated in the Alaskan tradition of dip-netting for reds as they make their way by the thousands each day upriver toward their spawning grounds.  Fishing for salmon, whether by net at the mouth of the river, rods from a boat or shore, or dip-nets on the Copper or Kenai Rivers, is very much an Alaskan way of life and economic powerhouse, not to mention a way to secure nutritious, healthy and wild grown food for our tables.  It is a very closely monitored fishery, and so far, one that seems to be quite healthy.

In the spirit of celebrating the season of the salmon, here is a recipe straight from our Camp Denali and North Face Lodge kitchens this year.  May your tables be rich with a taste of the Alaskan wilds!

Roasted Tomato and Preserved Lemon Vinaigrette for Grilled Alaskan Salmon

*Note: Prepare vinaigrette at least two hours before serving to allow flavors to meld well.  The recipe is loose to allow for chef’s discretion.

1 qt grape tomatoes

½ shallot, minced

½ C fresh lemon juice

zest from 1 lemon

parsley, finely cut

tarragon, finely cut

chives

extra virgin olive oil

salt and pepper to taste
 

1. Toss grape tomatoes lightly with oil and salt and roast on sheet pan until they just begin to caramelize and concentrate their flavors.  Let cool.
2. Macerate shallots in lemon juice for at least 20 minutes.
3. Combine tomatoes, lemon, shallots and preserved lemons in bowl and agitate with a wooden spoon to break down tomatoes until they get the texture of a chunky sauce.
4. Emulsify with olive oil.
5. Finish with salt, pepper and fresh herbs.

Cook salmon as desired (we prefer using our barbeque grill) and spoon vinaigrette atop before serving.  Serves 4

 


 

Wolves in Alaska represent for some an icon of the rugged north and a land left undisturbed—a symbol so important people will travel thousands of miles and spend great amounts of money to see them.  For others, wolves are viewed as a consumable resource, providing important furs that keep so many people warm in the harsh environments of the arctic and interior Alaska.  And the prevailing political opinion in the state is that wolves are a direct threat to game species such as moose and caribou, so predator control has long been in effect.   With so many passionate views, and politically appointed decision-makers, it is no wonder the state is in turmoil over its wildlife resources.

The wolves have endured a series of blows this winter, beginning with the untimely death of perhaps their greatest advocate in the state, Dr. Gordon Haber. As an independent researcher, Haber spent the better part of four decades closely studying and advocating for the wolves not only in Denali National Park, but elsewhere in the state. 

In early March, the State Board of Game ignored requests from the National Park Service and its biologists, many wildlife and conservation groups, and numerous local citizens to reinstate, and even slightly enlarge, no-take wolf buffer areas located immediately adjacent to Denali National Park. The wolf buffer, which has been in place for the last six years, would have continued to prevent wolves within it from being hunted or trapped.  Park boundaries, while drawn on maps of the area, are obviously not recognized by wildlife. NPS managers are tasked with managing for healthy wildlife populations, which can be difficult to do when park animals regularly cross its boundaries. In Denali, once those animals leave the park, they are on state land where wildlife is subject to intensive management for the greatest possible game species yield (moose & caribou).  Park managers have long recognized the buffer area as important habitat for Denali National Park wolves straying beyond the park boundaries in pursuit of winter caribou. Not only did the Board of Game disregard this information as a viable concern and vote to eliminate the Denali wolf buffer, the Board also instituted a six-year moratorium on considering the issue again.

The Alaska Department of Fish and Game has drawn attention in the last week for a couple of controversial moves. As part of Fish and Game’s intensive management for maximum yield of the Fortymile caribou herd and moose in the eastern Interior, the agency is using fixed wing aircraft to spot wolves and then returning in helicopters with gunners to shoot them. They hope to remove and kill 185 wolves through the efforts of trappers, hunters, private pilots and the state, leaving about 100 wolves remaining in the control area. While this is controversial in itself, last week the State’s team killed an entire pack of wolves just outside of Yukon Charley Rivers National Preserve, including two wolves collared for research by the National Park Service. Fish and Game had agreed beforehand that it would not kill wolves collared by biologists from the Yukon Charley Rivers National Preserve, and then afterwards said they killed the wolves wearing radio collars by mistake.  

The second controversial ADF&G issue involves the appointment of Corey Rossi to be the new Alaska Department of Fish and Game’s Director of the Division of Wildlife Conservation.  Given his lack of a college degree or other qualifications necessary for even an entry-level biologist position within the Division, a group of 40 former agency biologists are crying for his removal. They cite concerns regarding his lack of scientific background and the potential move the Division is heading regarding managing Alaska’s wildlife—a move away from the standard of science-based management, and toward a simplistic abundance management model where the single, overriding objective is maximum production of wild game meat. Thus far, the Commissioner of Alaska Department of Fish and Game is standing by his leadership choice.

What does all this mean for Alaska and it’s great wealth of wildlife? What does it mean for those who are non-consumptive wildlife “users”—those who rely upon wildlife for tourism, photography, and as indicators of a healthy ecosystem? The answer isn’t simple or clear, and will likely be a moving target as politics, appointees, climate change, public views, and other factors evolve over time.   For now, despite the hostile environment wolves and other large predators may experience elsewhere in the state, Denali National Park, and other national parks within Alaska are sanctuaries where nature’s food chain remains un-manipulated (at least while the animals stay within the boundaries). Denali continues to be one of the best places for viewing wolves in North America, a place that illustrates there are economic rewards in watchable wildlife, and where we as humans might be reminded of what is truly wild.

In a place where seasons vary dramatically and there is much to prepare for each season, many Alaskans feel that we are “always getting ready.”  This is the title of a book that describes the lifestyle of Yup’Ik Eskimos on the Yukon-Kuskokwim Delta and their constant preparation for each subsistence activity.  Around my home, I think of that phrase most often in the fall as we prepare for the onset of deep winter, and in the spring when life returns and we must ready ourselves for the busy summer season.

This year, in addition to stacking the firewood, cleaning the chimney, putting up food in the freezer and cupboards, winterizing my truck and swapping the summer clothes for winter boots & parkas, I have another matter of urgency to attend to: closing in my new home.  While there are some hearty souls who do winter construction in Interior Alaska (and who’s working cut-off temperature is usually minus 20 F!), it is generally preferable to get a roof on and get “closed in” before the snow flies and the mercury drops.  This has been my goal all summer long and while I have missed completing this before the first snowfall, I hope to have this stage completed in the next couple of weeks.  Luckily, the building season has been long this year, and our first snow proved only to be a teaser since it was followed by weeks of unseasonably warm fall weather.

The building project occupied most of my waking hours this summer (I took a summer sabbatical from Camp Denali & North Face Lodge to focus on building), and it will continue to be the focus of my weekends until that metal roofing is on.  At that point, I will be able to walk away for a while and go back to the drawing board.  The skeletal structure of the cabin will fall into deep freeze dormancy in the company of the spruce trees around it.  This winter’s projects include reading and learning about wiring, plumbing, interior insulation and air exchange systems for healthy interior air. 

While I call it “my cabin,” I know better than to believe that.  This cabin is the result of many, many hands.  From those who lent their strong backs to clearing large rocks out of the foundation hole, to those who have taken me through some of the more complicated framing aspects, to those who have shared their tools and words of encouragement, to those who have come out on cold, snowy mornings to help raise my timbers--I have learned that it takes a village.  And in this village, we help each other get ready.